Lyrics:
This one no be play play ...pala pala turn fight
Take bull by the horns
ah take the rape game with ma tongue
spread ma rap because am strong
I rule
laughin'
And a couple walked by an they looked so happy
I booked this room at this place called the last resort
All my bags are packed I got my jacket
over tennis shoes
It's hard enough for us blacks to earn cash man
The homeless keep warm by settin' fire to a trash can
Now everyday I need ends
New
killed in the street over tennis shoes
It's hard enough for us blacks to earn cash man
The homeless keep warm by settin fire to a trash can
Now everyday
know that you get smoke
We fight back, we’re not supposed to up and just “go”
Listen: our coping mechanisms don’t do enough
Pay attention to the protests
to business but also your head!
We gotta work to stay alive even if it breaks our backs
Test our limits, fight for peace and make some fact-filled tracks
Always
The Place like KSI
Waiting for the Grammy to be mine
I don't have friends, it's ok, I'll be fine
'Cause I'll still have none by the end of the line
Gotta keep
a cymbal, and a little kazoo
Velcroed them all to my only jacket
I call it music, but they call it a racket
Strap on the jacket and then I start to jam
whiskey eyes
You'll tell me things
I know they're all lies
I will fight, I'll fight for you
And there's nothing I can't do
Yeah, Montana
Hit
veins
Feels like music
Coming back again
Shake down, take down
Knocking to a different beat
One touch, head rush
Drop it one more time for
might, tough love, heart, ‘n mind
Rocky Balboa wins the fight, strength ‘n might, tough love, heart, ‘n mind
This been brought to you by Mass Music
a parody of what I should be, let's set up a charity for me, could we
Stand up and fight - what is the point of life
If you ain't challenging yourself
when you cry but hear I'm worse
This winner now rules the world when those tears might burst
In my car, taking more rights than what fear fights for
was in the mood for set trippin'
Fights
Begin and ruggars get splittin'
Like my life is thru and death slips in
Like
Theres no air left and my chest
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(Designer my jeans and my jacket)
(Shoutout to the ones who was there)
Yeah, yeah
Designer my jeans and my jacket
We pull up
killed in the street over tennis shoes
It's hard enough for us blacks to earn cash man
The homeless keep warm by settin fire to a trash can
Now everyday
shots, four shots
All I hear is gunshots, this is where the fun stops
Bodies drop, hit the floor, music's off, party stops
Everybody hit the door,
shots, four shots
All I hear is gunshots, this is where the fun stops
Bodies drop, hit the floor, music's off, party stops
Everybody hit the door,
fight
(Alright)
(Y'all see what we talking about now?)
(DJ Luffuate baby, Phunky Junk, 2021)
(Let's get it y'all)
(I love this music, how y'all feel
Caruso comes in at 1:40 - (good in-point for actual track at around 2:40)
Note: music is “tucked under” as if we are hearing it from one side of a door
to me
No body understand me
No body caring for me
Is like I didn't exist
I started singing music
Still no one listens to me
I ended up hearing me all
proud cause I'm stackin'
Out late at night clubs downtown
Fans be asking for a pound and pic
Aching for some access
By the entrance, still they be
Yeah
I'm searchin' for purpose in music
I only find peace when I'm in the booth
Elevated myself to another level
Don't know where to go, but I know
over tennis shoes
It's hard enough for us blacks to earn cash man
The homeless keep warm by settin' fire to a trash can
Now everyday I need ends
New
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